Page 119 of Returned Mail

He sits beside me, takes my face in his hands, and kisses my forehead. “I’m done looking back at my relationship with her. I swear.” He murmurs. “You're the one I want. You're the one I choose. I don't want her. I don't want whatever that was. I want you, Mia.”

“George…” I whisper, my voice unsteady. My hands find his chest, feeling his heartbeat still racing under my palms. “I need you to mean that, because I already was a second place for someone who I thought I was everything to. I can’t do that anymore.”

He pulls back just enough to meet my eyes, and I see the certainty there. “I mean it with everything in me,” he says, his thumb brushing away a tear I didn't know had fallen. “You're not second place to anyone. Not anymore. Not ever again.”

I lean into him, pressing my forehead against his, needing the closeness, needing to feel grounded in this moment.

“ I’ll deal with her. I promise. I’ll get her out of here. I'll get her out of my life. But I need you to know that this, us, is what's real. You're what's real.”

I nod against him, and he kisses my forehead tenderly, then my temple, then holds me close for a long moment before pulling away.

“I’m going to fix this,” he promises, and this time he looks back once more before heading toward the living room.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

George

Monica is standing in the living room, arms folded, foot tapping like she owns the place. Like she didn’t sign her ownership away the moment she mailed me a breakup instead of showing up like a grown woman.

“I want her out,” she says before I get a word out. “We need to talk privately.”

“No,” I say flatly.

Her eyes snap to mine, sharp and offended. “Excuse me?”

“This is my apartment,” I say. “And she lives here. Not you.”

She laughs, bitter and sharp. “Since when does she get more say in your life than I do?”

“Since you walked away,” I continue, voice steady. “Since you mailed me a letter instead of showing up like⁠—”

“We never got the chance to talk about anything that happened. I know I sent you the letter but⁠—”

“You broke up with me, Monica. You broke off our engagement, without even waiting for a reply. You stopped replying to my letters for months.” I say.

“There were things to discuss, George. I said we could talk later.” She snaps. “You can’t just—she can’t just waltz in and⁠—”

“She didn't waltz anywhere.” My voice drops. “She picked up the pieces you left behind.”

Then her chin lifts. “So what?” she says finally. “You're replacing me with her? That's what this is?”

“I'm not replacing you, Monica. I'm moving on from you. There's a difference. We knew things were bad, but I never stopped writing to you. Never. Not until I found out you were gone. We’ve been over for a year, Mon. This is more than done.” I say, stepping closer, voice dropping.

Her face goes stiff, like she might cry. “You used to love me,” she says.

I swallow hard. Because she's right. “I did,” I say honestly.

“And now?”

“Now it’s time to move on.” The truth sits right there between us.

She swallows and starts walking around the kitchen. “I mailed you that letter, and I never heard anything from you. I know I decided it that way, but you were supposed to come home in a couple of months, and when you didn’t call or reach out, I thought—I thought you were done, too.” She looks away, but I can see how tight her jaw is.

“And then I almost died, Monica. I woke up in a hospital on the other side of the world,” I say. “And the only person who came for me was the woman you just called a slut.”

Monica's face twists. It’s like pain and shame are fighting for dominance. “I didn't know… And even if I did, I wouldn’t know if you wanted me there,” she says finally. Her voice sounds so small now. “After everything, I⁠—”

“You didn't ask.” The words are quiet. But they land like a punch. Monica's breath hitches. “You didn't call,” I continue. “You didn't write again. You didn't show up. You made your choice, Monica. And I'm not blaming you for it. I respect it. But you don't get to be angry that I made one too.” Silence stretches between us.